Sins
by PBCD
Summary: John and Anna are forced to decide how high a price they're willing to pay.
1. Chapter 1

_After S1 I began the project of trying to imagine every possible outcome for Anna and John. This is one idea that came from that._

_No spoilers for S2._

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><p>Before she met John Bates, Anna's experience with sin was very limited. She had been seven years old the first time she intentionally ignored her conscience and did something she knew was wrong. It was her sister Eleanor's birthday and she had received a large packet of sweets from their parents. She offered Anna a taste, but when she left to go play with her friends Anna crept back into the kitchen and ate the whole thing.<p>

The consequences were severe. Aside from the painful stomachache, she faced the shame of her parents' disappointment, the humiliation of having to confess to her sister, and the insult of having her doll taken away for a month as punishment. Thus ended Anna's career as a miscreant.

As she had grown her mother had always referred to her as "my good girl." She did her chores without being nagged, studied hard at school, and didn't whisper and giggle with the other girls. Later, she always kept her distance from boys. When her father took her to Downton he boasted to the new housekeeper that Anna had never been in any trouble and wouldn't need looking after. She had lived up to that promise in her work and had been rewarded for it, getting herself promoted all the way up to head housemaid by the time she turned 24.

All of that changed, one spring morning.

xXx

She was the most seductive thing he'd ever seen. She had long dark hair that she pulled over her shoulders, letting the curls rest just so, right where his gaze was already drawn. There was no innocence at all in her bright green eyes. Instead they held something closer to a sneer, daring anyone to think themself worthy to approach. She followed her father around the docks where John worked, waiting as he inspected holds and ledgers, not even pretending to listen as he explained the business that kept her fed. She caught him watching her and he gave her a wink, letting his eyes run up and down her figure. She lifted her chin defiantly and stood her ground, examining him just as boldly. He knew right then he had to have her.

They walked away and he got back to work. The next time he looked up he saw her walking toward the gates by herself as her father went back into the office. He hollered to his foreman than he needed a head call and took off after her. He slowed as he got close and drew himself up before he spoke. She turned around and he had no idea what he said, but somehow he got out of her that she'd be at The Stag that night.

He met her there every night for the next two weeks and now, as he pressed himself against her, he was amazed that she was letting him do this; letting him touch her hips, her bottom, and her breasts as he ground his mouth on hers. He started to work a hand under her dress, drawing her skirts up, when she stopped him. She wouldn't, she said. Not without a wedding ring.

It was a tolerable enough prospect for him. He was 28 years old—it was high time he stopped chasing barmaids and found himself a wife. He had just gotten a good posting in the army and he could certainly do worse than her. She wasn't the kindest woman he'd ever met, and didn't seem the type to settle down and keep house, but he assumed that if it was her idea it must be what she wanted. He grazed his hands over her ample chest once more and made her an offer.

They were married a month later, and a year after that he was on a steamer, headed for Africa.

xXx

Wouldn't it be better just to end it all? He was at least halfway there already, he figured. Why not quit buggering about and finish the job? He had nothing—he'd thrown it all away. Vera was done with him; had been done with him before his ship left the Channel, probably. The army was done with him. His father had snuffed it while he was in prison and his mother had been very clear he was not welcome to call anymore. Not in the state he was in. No one was going to miss him.

He'd been walking for hours and his knee was throbbing, so he turned into the next alley and sank down against the bricks. As he leaned his head back something shiny caught his notice. He forced his eyes to focus and peered closer. His hand shook as he plucked a florin out of the gutter. He imagined some rich man, maybe like the Earl, hurrying through this side of town in search of things they didn't like to keep in their part, not even noticing that it had fallen out of his pocket. He wondered at the fates. Why were some people were made earls, others bricklayer's sons, and still others born so they could watch their fathers gunned down before they're hauled to camps to die from dysentery? It didn't matter, he supposed. To hell with it all.

If he were a better man he would take his find to the lodging house and get some sleep, then clean himself up and go look for work again. But he knew well enough not to entertain that fantasy anymore. Even if his damn leg would let him, he wasn't much good at keeping a job these days.

No, two bob should buy just enough so he wouldn't have to think anymore tonight. He could be out cold before sun-up. Maybe, if he was lucky, he wouldn't wake up this time.

xXx

Anna had never wanted so fiercely in her life.

She had noticed right away that he had a fine smile. That he was tall and broad at the shoulders. Her heart fluttered when his dark eyes sparkled and crinkled at the corners and his voice, with its deep timbre and musical lilt, would push right into her, making her tremble.

Lady Mary, or any of the girls really, could love any man they wanted. They could look across the dining table or the drawing room and flutter their eyelashes, play with their jewelry, and receive an offer by midnight. They were free to marry that man, set up their home, and live their lives with no obstacles in the way.

Mary could kiss men she fancied without any fear of losing the roof over her head. She could even entertain naked men in her very bedroom with no noticeable consequences. Had Anna been caught in a similar situation she would have been dismissed without a reference, instantly put out of the house, and left to fend for herself.

She'd always been content, before, to chalk up the differences between herself and the Crawley girls as the way the world worked. Some girls slept in big, soft beds. Other girls made up those beds. But now that there was something worth wanting just out of her reach she resented them their privilege. Coveted. Seethed.

xXx

He had nothing to give her. What was there to say?

She had stood there, so brave, so open, and told him she loved him. He could have told her, realized later. Not necessarily right then, but he could have found a private moment and told her his secrets. His disgraces. His shackles. He had thought, even then, that she might understand, and she proved him right months later when she sought him out in the dark and told him there was no better man. He wanted her that night. Had almost crossed a line. Probably would have done much more than he ought had they not been interrupted.

He couldn't do it, though. He couldn't make himself go back and seek her out again. Couldn't bring himself to tell her about all the ways he had failed, all the terrible things he had done, and the impossible trap in which he was now caught. He had countless opportunities. He had learned all of the quiet corners of the estate and knew when moments could be stolen. He could even have taken her far away from prying eyes during their stay in London, but he hadn't, and if he were honest it was at least partially because he couldn't bear to see the light in her eyes when she looked at him dim even further.

Now he watched the back of her as she hurried away to pick up another tray. She'd taken it upon herself to find him out and it gutted him to see the change in her. She might still think she loved him, but that blind trust and admiration were long gone. She looked nothing more than disappointed and defeated when he reminded her of his limitations.

If only his shame could be all that was standing between them. He couldn't admit that this problem might be beyond him, beyond his ability to control or fix. That he might need help. Or understanding. Or compassion.

If he couldn't give her everything, there was nothing at all to give her.

xXx

He stopped in his tracks, startling her and causing her to stumble. She looked up at him curiously as he stood, frozen, and followed his gaze to a woman who was now heading straight for them.

"What are you doing here?" he gasped as she approached.

She fished through her bag and drew out a sheaf of letters. "Apparently my dear husband has finally decided to clean up his messes. Why are you still in Yorkshire? I suppose the Army wouldn't have the likes of you?"

Anna stared at the woman with horror and foreboding in her heart. Her face was rough, but she had high cheeks and striking eyes that Anna could easily imagine as having been very attractive at one time. The woman returned her appraisal like a scrapper in a ring sizing up a new opponent. "Well aren't you a pretty young thing? I can see the appeal, Johnny."

"That's enough," came his sharp reply.

Anna had been determined up until now to refrain from passing judgment should she ever meet the elusive Vera. She knew she had no claim on his past—she really didn't have any claim on him now, to be honest—but in that moment she couldn't stop a blistering hatred from flaring up in her. This woman who had known him, claimed his freedom, and saw him as a man she'd never recognize, had everything Anna wanted and nothing to recommend herself.

She hated him too, a little bit. How could he have picked her? How could he have sold himself so cheaply? Didn't he know she was out there waiting for him? She knew it wasn't fair or rational and vowed to never let on, but it was there just the same.

She had spent so long hoping that Mr. Bates would be able to find his errant wife—he'd been trying for nearly two years—but now felt very foolish realizing she hadn't thought of what would happen should the woman actually turn up. Now that she was here, Anna longed for the ignorance of the past. Be careful what you wish for, lest it come true, her mother had often warned. How right she had been!

Anna stepped aside to allow them the illusion of privacy, but there was no way to avoid overhearing.

"Vera, I wanted to talk to you about a divorce."

"Oh, no, absolutely not."

"We haven't been married in the proper sense for years. It's time for us both to move on."

"Why would I want to agree to that?"

"It wouldn't be any inconvenience to you. I can set the whole thing up and pay for it. All you would need to do is appear in court and sign the papers. You would be free."

"I don't see how that benefits me. My husband has a good job now in a nice house. I should be very well fixed."

"I highly doubt you've been faithful for the last 10 years."

"Prove it," she answered with an indifferent shrug. "I've not been daft enough to get myself in trouble and you'll find no one to swear to anything in court."

Anna couldn't take any more. She had to get away. She started walking down the path again, and was almost grateful that Vera refused to yield, seeming to want to make a point by standing her ground and claiming her space. Little did she know Anna was in no mood for games. Instead of stepping off the path to move around her, she simply lowered her shoulder and pushed straight through, allowing herself a tiny smile at the woman's affronted cry.

xXx

He told her of the letter. Paul Moss, poor bloke, was one of the first Americans to arrive and had been maimed in a training accident less than a month after his ship deposited him on England's shores. Between his injury and the infection he'd acquired in the hospital, his condition wasn't stable enough for him to return home, so he'd been sent to Downton for rest and rehabilitation. He and John had taken a liking to each other, John seeing a lot of himself in the younger man and Paul finding comfort in John's steadiness and perspective. They had spent weeks engrossed in long conversations and he had been genuinely sad when Paul was well enough to return home.

Now, this soldier he'd spent so much time with had written to him, saying that he'd started up his dairy again like they had talked about and business was booming. He was expanding his operations and offered John the opportunity to be his general manager, if he were willing to come and settle in Wisconsin.

She felt a little unease as she listened to him. Finally she could bear it no longer and asked if he intended to accept. He seemed shocked at the question and told her no, of course not. He appreciated the offer but he was settled at Downton.

Anna, however, couldn't let the idea go. For two nights she'd tossed and turned, going over and over it in her mind and always coming to the same unlikely conclusion.

She pulled him outside the next day before tea, and led him down the path toward the pond. When they were far enough away from the house she gathered up her courage and prayed for a miracle.

"Have you written Mr. Moss back regarding his offer?"

He looked at her oddly, not expecting that to be the topic of her conversation. "No, not yet. I had intended to do it tonight."

"What if," she began haltingly, "what if you took it? And we both went." She said the last words in a rushed jumble, her heart thundering in her ears.

He stopped and turned to her, his brow furrowed. "What are you trying to say?"

She swallowed, trying to force some moisture back into her mouth. Her pulse hadn't slowed a bit and she was feeling quite lightheaded. "What if we both went?"


	2. Chapter 2

_My apologies for the abominably long time since I've updated. Real life and all...grumble, grumble... Will try to do much better. _

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><p>"Are you suggesting…?"<p>

She nodded.

"You know very well that is out of the question!"

"Why, John? Why should it be out of the question? I think it might actually be a very good opportunity for us. No one would have to be the wiser. We could simply arrive in America calling ourselves married and it would never be questioned. We could have a life."

"Well, Anna, which would you prefer? Bigamy or adultery?"

"Adultery. Definitely."

He looked at her quizzically, flushed and off-balance.

"Adultery is a sin, bigamy is a crime. As much as I want to say those vows to you we can't take that kind of risk."

"You're serious about this?"

"I love you and you love me. I know you do. I can see it and feel it every day, but it's been nearly 7 years and we're hardly farther along than the day we met. She won't consent to a divorce. There aren't any grounds to get one without her cooperation. She doesn't appear to be ill. I don't think there's any chance you're going to be liberated from this marriage anytime soon."

"That's exactly what I've been saying!"

"So then what? Look down the road. Are you just going to give up and live alone for the rest of your life? Set aside the gift of what we feel for each other? For what?"

"For the commitment I made, no matter how stupid it was at the time! No one forced me into it. I wasn't tricked. I made a decision with hubris and my baser instincts and now it's time for me to pay for it."

"You've made every reasonable effort to fix this and I think you've exhausted all of your options. Is there no capacity for forgiveness or second chances in the way you see the world? Are you intending to sacrifice the rest of your life at the altar of one mistake you made?"

He looked away, the muscles of his jaw working.

"And what of me? I love you," she repeated. "Very deeply. Enough so that I'm willing to do this. But I also think I've waited as long as I can for you. I wish things could be resolved with your wife, but that doesn't appear to be the case. We either need to find some way to go forward together or I need to move on."

"So if I don't agree to this you're done with me?"

"I didn't say that. If you have another plan I'd love to hear it, but I'm 30 years old. I want a home and a family. I want to be able to love you without limits or secrecy. If you want things to continue on as they have been indefinitely, I'd say you're the one who is done with me."

"I want those things too; I'll never be able to tell you how much. But they're more than we're entitled too. More than I'm entitled to," he corrected. "I've made more than one mistake."

"We'll just have to earn it, then. Couldn't we redeem ourselves? I'm not asking you to live a life of debauchery, or to turn away from what you believe in fundamentally. Good would come of this. We would work hard, raise a little family, and contribute to the world."

"What about your parents? Your job? You can't leave your whole life behind."

"My life isn't at Downton, or even in England." She stepped closer, laying her hands on his chest. "My life is right here, John, if you'll have me."

"Anna," he sighed, wrapping his arm tightly around her and resting his cheek against her hair. The idea of her entreating him, asking him if he would have her—it was preposterous. "I know we haven't much time, but I need to think about this."

"I understand. I've had a few days to turn it over in my mind, but I know it's quite a shock for you. Just please, really think about it. It might be our only chance."

xXx

She hadn't needed to plead with him to think about it, the idea consumed his mind and he could focus on little else afterward. Could he do this? Take what she was offering? What was he going to do if he couldn't?

Things had changed fundamentally for them not long after the war started. Mr. Molesley had not seen fit to heed his warning and his interest in Anna had become hard to miss. John had done a very poor job concealing his displeasure at this development and she'd finally lost patience with him. That conversation lingered in his memory.

_"Wasn't that fun? I can't recall when I've had a better time lately." They, along with most of the village, had attended a benefit show for the Red Cross. The singing, dancing, and silly skits were followed by refreshments in the village hall and her eyes still sparkled with the excitement of it as they started along the path back to Downton._

_"I can," he grumbled under his breath. He had been so looking forward to a rare afternoon off with her and enjoying the event together. However, the moment they entered the hall their twosome had become a party of three as Molesley attached himself to her side. He attempted to monopolize her conversation and nearly tripped over himself to ply her with punch, cakes, and the little favors the organizers were handing out. Anna had seemed bemused at the attention but did absolutely nothing to dissuade him, and though he tried to remind himself he had no right, John's irritation grew with each passing moment. _

_"You didn't enjoy yourself?" _

_"I found it rather crowded. Hard to get a moment of peace."_

_"Oh. That's too bad. I'm sorry you didn't have a better time."_

_ "I can't imagine you would have noticed."_

_His petulant tone surprised her. "What is that supposed to mean?" _

_"You were rather well looked after."_

_She came to a halt and regarded him curiously. "You're upset about Mr. Molesley? He's perfectly harmless."_

_"He was rather obvious in his aims."_

_"And why shouldn't he be?" she replied, a challenge in her voice. "That's generally what happens when a man fancies a woman—he lets her know he's interested in her."_

_"He shouldn't be at you like that."_

_She bristled. "Why not? I've no claims on me and he's a free man." The second the words left her mouth she cringed, knowing exactly how her careless phrasing would sound to him._

_He tensed and stared into the distance a long moment. "You're absolutely right," he muttered, and started walking again._

_"That's it?"_

_He stopped and turned back to face her. _

_"Will you ever fight for me?" _

_"I have nothing to give you."_

_"That's not true. Why are you hiding behind that?"_

_"Your attentions lie elsewhere." _

_"No, they don't, but it is refreshing to be wanted for a change!"_

_"You think I don't want you?" _

_"I have no idea what you want, Mr. Bates! You've been perfectly unclear on the subject. One moment you nearly kissed me and then it was like it had never happened. You speak to me in riddles and shut me out and—"_

_He grabbed her face roughly and interrupted her rant with his lips. They were both overcome with shock at the contact, but he recovered first and decided he might as well make the most of what could be his only opportunity. Every bit of long-denied desire, longing, and frustration poured out of him and into the pressure of his mouth on hers and she accepted it without hesitation. She took his disquiet and returned nothing but love, comfort, and understanding. It was the best thing he'd ever felt and he never wanted it to end. Unfortunately, though, she was stretched up precariously to meet him, and when he leaned into her eagerly she lost her balance, staggering backward and breaking their kiss. He caught her around the waist and she steadied herself. _

_"John," she breathed._

_He closed his eyes and moved back. "I'm sorry." _

_"I'm not."_

_"I'm not free and it's not right. I won't hold you back or compromise you. What I have to give isn't worthy of you."_

_"Do I get a say in any of this?"_

_"Do you think this is easy? That I'm holding myself back just for sport? I can't do this halfway!"_

_"Do you love me?"_

_"I thank God every day for the gift of you in my life. It's more than I ever dreamed I could have. That's why I can't take the convenient path, as desperately as I wish I could." _

_"I understand the situation, but I need to hear it. That much you can do for me."_

_He regarded her intently and she could see him struggling to come to a decision. Finally, his eyes softened and he reached to gently draw his fingers along the side of her face. "I love you," he whispered. "I never knew I could love someone the way I adore you. I want to marry you. Not a day goes by that I don't regret the mistakes I made. I never imagined the price would be so high."_

_She laid her palm over his heart. "I still love you. I think I always will." The joy that washed over his expression at her words made her reckless. She would go anywhere and do anything for this amazing man. _

_"What do we do now?" she finally asked, breaking the spell. _

_"I am trying. I am looking for my wife and I will do everything I can to fix this. I won't burden you with my problems, though. Asking you to wait wouldn't be right."_

_"You're worth waiting for." She brought her lips to his again, but after the briefest indulgence he reluctantly pulled away._

_"Anna, I can't. One day I won't be able to stop and I can't bear the thought of that. Please." His eyes begged her to understand._

_She owned to a bit of disappointment, but knew that they had moved mountains in one conversation. That would be more than enough to content herself with after waiting and hoping so long. With a reassuring squeeze of his arm, she started them down the path again. _

From that afternoon a more intimate friendship was born with hopes for more but no promises. He'd had more trouble than he expected staying within the bounds he'd set for them, but again his Anna had called him on it and sorted it all at once.

_He couldn't take his eyes off her. The spring air made her glow and she'd caught him staring more than once that morning. Each time she'd answered him with a mischievous grin that simultaneously thrilled him and made him very nervous. She kept her pace achingly slow as they walked back to the house after church, much slower than he actually needed, but he didn't make any effort to speed them up. Soon they lost sight of the group and her hand came to his arm. Smiling coyly, she turned toward him, moving close and reaching to place her palms on his chest._

_He caught her hands and stepped back a bit. "We shouldn't. We've talked about this. We agreed we wouldn't."_

_Her brow furrowed. "You kissed me last week."_

_"I did," he admitted, grimacing. "I'm sorry about that. It shouldn't have happened. I lost my head."_

_"And the week before last, on the way back from the village?"_

_He scuffed the ground with the toe of his boot. "Yes. "_

_"And that time last month, in the linen cupboard."_

_"That was not entirely my fault. You asked me to hold you steady on the ladder. There is only so much a man can be expected to endure."_

_"I see. So what we've really agreed to is that you can kiss me whenever the impulse strikes you but I can't?"_

_"Darling, if I kissed you every time the impulse struck me you would never be out of my arms."_

_She shivered a bit, but held her ground, raising an eyebrow at him._

_He sighed. "I suppose when you put it like that it does sound a bit unfair."_

_"Yes, I think so too."_

_"But we can't. I can't just let this loose and still be an honorable man. One day I'm going to slip and I could never forgive myself. I don't ever want you to look at me with regret."_

_"Surely there has to be a middle ground; something in between being cut off from each other and completely losing control?"_

_He looked at her dubiously, but didn't argue._

_"What about Sundays?" she asked finally._

_"Sundays?"_

_"During the week we maintain boundaries. No sneaking around or ducking out—everything stays professional. If we succeed at that, then on Sunday I get to kiss you. And you get to kiss me. Once. Just enough to get through until the next week."_

_"That could work," he agreed a little too eagerly, making her smile. _

_"And," she continued, sliding her arms around his neck, "since it is Sunday, and I've managed to keep myself under control all week, I think I'm entitled."_

_It was only when her lips met his that he was able to stop grinning. She kissed him sweetly for a minute, sighing and melting into him, but then her hands clenched at his shoulders and she boldly deepened their kiss. His head swam as she had her way with him and he moaned a little when she finally pulled back. She looked quite pleased with herself as she moved away, but, having recovered his wits a bit, he succeeded in surprising her when he reached out and pulled her back into him firmly._

_"You said I got to kiss you, too," he murmured, and took her again._

They had managed to stay to true to their agreement and even he had to shake his head at how much he looked forward to Sundays. He felt himself fortunate that he and the Lord had an otherwise good understanding, as it was now nearly impossible to focus on anything but her as she sat next to him in church. When he was a boy his mother used to drill him after Mass on the scriptures for the day. If he had to face her now he would only have been able to tell her which ribbon Anna put on her hat and whether she had used her rose hand cream or the lily.

Would that be what their life would be like? Would every day be Sunday? He could envision coming back at the end of his day at work to their little home and seeing her there, putting the final touches on their supper, one of the children on her hip and the rest underfoot and noisy. He imagined what it would be like to come up behind her and wrap his arm around her, rest his chin on her shoulder and have her sigh and lean back into him. He could almost feel her press a little kiss into his temple and ask how his day went while the child in her arms squirmed and reached to come over to him.

That happy picture filled him with the keenest need. He'd never had a home—not since he was a boy at least. There had been boarding rooms, barracks, and the miserable house he'd occupied with Vera, but never anywhere he could call his own, look upon fondly, or long to return to. Downton had been the closest approximation. It was certainly beautiful and she was there, but he still had to leave her on the stairs at night and climb up to his lonely room.

She'd given him so much, waited so long, and had been more understanding than he'd ever hoped possible. She deserved a life of her own, and for some unfathomable reason, she wanted it with him. He had gone to prison for a lesser woman—didn't he owe Anna the same devotion? If he could manage to commit this one unthinkable sin he could give them both everything they'd ever dreamed of. If he couldn't, his life was over. He would merely muddle on existing until his end came.

Somewhere deep inside the tiny spark of self-preservation that lived within him—the one that had made him pull himself out of the gutter, and then later compelled him to reach out and take the hand she extended to him—came to life once more. He swore to himself he would do it as honorably as possible, no matter what difficulty it caused him, and he would live the rest of his life as a penitent, but God help him, maybe he could do this.


	3. Chapter 3

_Apologies for the delay. Thanks for sticking with me! _

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><p>She couldn't help it—every time she heard a bit of noise the next morning she looked up from her place at the table in the hall, hoping it was him, hoping for some kind of reaction. When he finally did appear, her heart leapt in her throat. He met her eye, and while she couldn't discern exactly what he was thinking, she instinctively knew his answer wasn't no, at least not outright. Her joy was mixed with frustration as their work kept them apart all day. Finally, when she about ready to jump out of her skin, he found her in the hall and gave a slight tilt of his head toward the courtyard. She followed as fast as decorum would allow and perched awkwardly next to him on the crate. Hundreds of thoughts tumbled through her head and threatened to escape from her mouth, but she forced herself to wait for him to speak.<p>

Eventually he took a deep breath and turned to her. "I'm going to write him back to ask for more details and see when he was thinking of starting. I'll inquire about living arrangements and about bringing along a wife."

Hearing this, Anna began to shake; a strong, visceral tremble that left her teeth chattering. She sat on her hands to still them and but the excess energy caused her to rock gently. This was real. This was going to happen. They were going to throw up everything and run away together.

He was a little taken aback at her agitation. "Are you all right?" he asked, slipping his arm around her.

She attempted to nod. "Part of me never believed you'd agree to it."

"Were you hoping I wouldn't?"

"No! I want this. I know it won't be easy and I know the cost will be great, but I can't imagine any other life but one with you."

"Are you sure, Anna? If this gets out the consequences for you will be disastrous. I'm already ruined, but you still have a chance. You have the potential for a good career, or you could find someone and have a proper family." His plea was earnest, though he choked on the last words.

"Whatever I could manage without you would only be an empty shell. I'd bear anything to be with you."

"I don't deserve you, but I swear that I will look after you and do everything in my power to make sure you never regret this."

She clutched his shoulder. "John," she whispered hesitantly, "I know it's not Sunday…" Before she could finish her sentence his mouth was on hers, warm and soft. They moved together, slowly and intimately, and when he pulled back he rested his forehead against hers, their breath mingling.

"It never has to be Sunday again. That much I promise you."

xXx

It was three long weeks before a reply came, but it was worth the wait as it answered all of their hopes. They had slipped out into the courtyard and huddled together over the letter, reading greedily that Mr. Moss was thrilled that John was considering the offer and welcomed the idea of him bringing Anna along. His brother was planning to move to California and Bates could rent his house near the dairy for a very reasonable sum. The salary he offered seemed more than adequate for their needs and Mr. Moss would pay for their travel from New York if they could finance their own crossing. He was excited for them to arrive, but willing to wait for John to settle his affairs in England.

They barely had time to take it in before they were summoned back to the house. The rest of their conversation took place in hushed snippets as they passed each other in corridors.

"How do you think we should go about this?" he asked in a low voice after he caught her by the elbow and pulled her into a quiet alcove below stairs. She smiled a bit when he made no move to release her and couldn't resist pressing her lips close to his ear as she answered, enjoying the way his breath hitched.

"I imagine you might tell as much of the truth as possible—that you're going to America to take a new job. It doesn't seem like Mr. Moss is in a terrible rush; you could likely take time to ensure his Lordship finds a replacement as well as visit your mother." That was as much as she was able to get out before they heard footsteps approaching and quickly moved apart.

"And what of you?" he managed later when they met on the stairs after sorting the family out for bed.

"I'll resign after you do—tell them I'm going back home or off to work in a factory. They'll think I'm a broken-hearted girl, running away because you've left and I won't be correcting them." She sighed. "That's the easy part. I don't know what I'll tell my family, to be honest. I'm still thinking that through." His brow furrowed, but she didn't have a chance to continue before they arrived in the hall.

He decided his first order of business would be dealing with Vera. After her sudden re-appearance she had stayed in town for a week. He flatly refused any suggestion of re-kindling things, and the speed at which she agreed to leave him alone in exchange for half his wages was all the convincing he needed that she had no further affection for him either. He had been saving what he could of the rest, hoping to eventually have enough to entice her to agree to a divorce, but every hint he'd made at the subject had either been ignored or swiftly rebuffed.

He found a solicitor who was willing to continue on for him. For a small fee he would forward John's payments to Vera without revealing his whereabouts. As much as he loathed her, he didn't want to invite trouble by suddenly cutting her off, and there was some small part of him that acknowledged he owed her support. As long as she kept up her end of the bargain by never contacting him again, he would continue to pay her.

They walked to the village together later that week and he worked up the courage to tell her what he'd done. The words were bitter on his tongue as he explained the situation and he couldn't guess what she was thinking as he nervously waited for her reaction. They hadn't spoken much about Vera—Anna had been content to simply heave a sigh of relief when he told her she had gone. She wondered at her sudden departure, but it all made much more sense now. Seeing the silent plea in his eyes for understanding, she quickly pledged that they'd manage and it wouldn't be a problem. His heart nearly burst with love for her in that moment and for a few blissful hours that afternoon all of his doubts left him. As he pulled her into the orchard and began to playfully nibble at her neck, he could see nothing but happiness ahead.

xXx

He could put it off no longer.

With the decision made, a letter written to Mr. Moss accepting his offer, and Vera dealt with, it was time to face Lord Grantham. His stomach roiled as he climbed the stairs and let himself in to the dressing room. He invented several excuses to delay as he relieved his Lordship of his evening attire and set out his nightclothes, but finally, after offering himself several unflattering assessments of his manhood, he managed to speak.

"Sir, there is a matter I need to discuss with you."

"Yes?"

"I've received a letter from one of the soldiers that convalesced here at Downton. He had a similar injury to mine and Mrs. Crawley encouraged me to speak with him. We developed an acquaintance from then and he's written now to offer me a job."

"Oh? What sort of a job is it?"

"He runs a rather large dairy and needs someone to see to operations—keeping ledgers, managing stores, and the like."

"You always did have an aptitude for that kind of work. My command was never so organized as when you were in charge of it. Where is this dairy?"

"America. In the state of Wisconsin."

"America!"

"Yes."

"Rather far from home, isn't it? I take it you're seriously considering the offer?"

"I am."

Grantham felt a flash of temper at the news—Bates' loss would be keenly felt, not only by himself but through the entire household—and could also concede to being a bit wounded that he would consider this offer superior to his current employment. However, he managed to keep himself in check. He prided himself on being a thoughtful, fair man and decided it would be best to reason through the situation logically.

He knew the job as his valet was demanding, both physically and in the hours required. Time was marching on for both of them; he could certainly feel his years catching up to him and couldn't blame his old comrade for looking ahead and trying to secure work that might be more manageable as he got older. He would be able to provide for his future and possibly even have a family, if he were so inclined. America would also offer him a fresh start away from the unpleasantness that seemed to constantly follow him in whispers—he'd heard a bit of it from his own wife, and couldn't imagine what Bates faced.

The longer he thought, the more he resigned himself to the idea. While he selfishly wished he could keep an excellent employee and a friend, he knew that Bates needed to see to his own welfare. If he was seriously considering going all the way to America to take this job, he must be convinced it was the best opportunity for him. He owed him nothing less than his full and sincere support.

"It sounds like an excellent opportunity.

"I do believe it would be."

"Then you must take it."

"This isn't…it wasn't an easy decision, my Lord."

"It's not easy to accept graciously either."

"I will always be grateful for your kindness and the opportunities you've given me. I won't be running out into the night. I will stay until a satisfactory replacement can be found and trained."

"I appreciate that."

"I am not forgetting what you've done for me. If I thought I could satisfy the debt by staying I would, but I fear even that would be inadequate."

"You don't owe me your life, Bates. Rather the opposite, in fact," he finished slowly. John bit down a gasp. They never spoke of it.

"It's been a long time." A steady look passed between them.

"I won't see you again, will I?"

He wanted to protest, but knew the truth. "It's not likely."

"Cousin Matthew won't be returning for another month at least. Molesley can come up and fill in until I've found a replacement. You may leave at your convenience."

"That's very kind of you. I'll set a day with Mr. Carson so no one is put out."

"Write us when you're fixed. I'm sure we'll all be interested in the news."

"Of course, my Lord."

"No, actually, forget that. Write to me when you're settled. Let me know how you get on."

"My Lord?" he questioned. The Earl of Grantham receiving personal correspondence from his former valet would be absolutely unheard of. Just the idea of Carson's face as he handed over the letter was enough to make John force down an involuntary chuckle.

"I know," he said with a light laugh. "But the world is changing. That's what my daughters keep telling me, anyhow. I want to know how my friend fares."

"I will write. Thank you."

"So," he began in an easy tone, signaling the end of the discussion, "shall we say 8 o'clock tomorrow morning?"

"Very good, Sir," John replied as he gathered up the laundry and let himself out.

He knew he ought to feel happy as he walked down the stairs, but any joy he might have felt was suffocated by a thick blanket of guilt. His Lordship, a man he owed and admired, had been kind and generous and John would be repaying him by running off with his head housemaid and lying about it. He hadn't even considered telling Grantham about his plans for Anna. He hid behind the skirts of propriety, telling himself he couldn't burden his superior with tedious details about his personal life, but in reality he simply couldn't face the prospect of admitting to it. Not to him.

He walked into the yard, grateful for the bracing cold of the evening, encouraging the numbness that came with it. She was there, of course. He hadn't told her it would be tonight, but wasn't surprised that she knew anyway. "It's done," he said, and he sank down next to her on the crate.

The hollow note in his voice and the slump of his shoulders broke her heart. "John," she breathed. A terrible wave of remorse flooded over her for having forced him into this. Would it all be worth it? Was she really enough to make him give everything up?

He took her hand and held it tightly, but neither one had anything they felt like saying.

xXx

"Have you gone mad?"

Anna swallowed. She wasn't sure what reaction she was expecting from Eleanor, but this wasn't what she had hoped for. After John's bravery in facing Lord Grantham, she knew she had to do her part as well. She'd gone the following Sunday to visit her sister and tell her of her departure. So far she seemed less than impressed.

"No," she replied, trying to stay calm, "I haven't. I know this is not what anyone would hope for, but it's the best I can do in the situation."

"No, it's not! The best you can do is forget about this nonsense! Get back to work, find a decent man, and never speak of this again."

Anna bristled. "I have found a decent man. I want to raise a family and spend the rest of my life with him."

"No decent man would take a girl half his age all the way across the ocean to live in sin with him. Think about what you're doing!"

"I have thought about what I'm doing. We love each other. He's a good man and will make a wonderful husband and father. I'm not a child. I've lived and worked on my own for 16 years. I know my own mind and enough about how the world works to do this."

"He won't make any kind of husband. Don't you see that? You will be a fallen woman and your children will be bastards."

"Don't say that!"

"It's the truth, Anna. Think of what someone who doesn't love you will say of it. This is going to kill Mum, especially now that Dad is gone. And what about Willie and Fred? When they hear about this…"

"They aren't going to hear about it. Not from me. I'm telling you because you're my sister and I trust you, but I'm not saying anything to the others. Not until I'm settled at least."

"You're going to run off without even letting them know you're going?"

"I can't! Mum won't understand and she won't be able to keep it to herself. Willie and Fred will find out and I can't afford to have them storm up to Downton causing trouble! I'm sure they would think they were rescuing me, but they'd be ruining my life and John's in the process. He would never recover from that kind of public humiliation and I would never recover from losing him."

"Anna…"

"Promise me," she begged, terrified she had just set both herself and John up for even more trouble. "Promise me that you'll keep this to yourself until I'm gone. I know what I'm doing. This is all going to work out for the best."

"Fine," she finally replied with a resigned sigh. "I won't tell them. It's your own affair. But don't for a minute think I approve of this."

"Ellie," Anna began, but her sister shot her a warning glare and the conversation was over. Anna couldn't afford to antagonize her. She hoped against hope that Ellie would keep her word and not tell the rest of the family of her plans. The prospect of them mounting some kind of effort to save her filled her with dread and panic.

The rest of the afternoon was tense and Ellie wouldn't hug her back when she left to catch her train. John was waiting for her at the station when she got in. She spotted him as she stepped out and quickly lowered her eyes. His chest tightened. It hadn't gone well, he could see, and shame burned within him. How could he have agreed to this and let her put herself though this? What could he possibly offer her to repay this?

He led her off the platform and as soon as they were an acceptable distance away he pulled her against him. She buried her face against his shoulder and he soothed his hands over her back. He couldn't tell if she was crying, though he noticed she had been earlier. She didn't make a sound, actually, and it was a bit eerie. He could barely feel her breath and she stood completely still.

"Anna, love," he tried, hoping she'd tell him a bit of what happened.

She didn't answer for quite some time and when she did her voice quavered. "We may be in some trouble."

"Trouble?"

"She wasn't pleased. She spoke of my brothers. I made her promise she wouldn't tell them, but I just don't know. I'm so sorry."

His gut clenched, but he did his best to hide it from her. "Shh. Don't be. It will be all right."

"If they come up here…"

"I know. I might have done the same if it were my sister."

"Don't, John. This is not some tawdry thing—this is good and right. There is nothing to save me from. I feel terrible enough about this—it's my fault we've got this problem. I shouldn't have told her."

"No, Anna. The fault is entirely mine."

"We need to move as quickly as we can."

"I agree. I'll speak to Mr. Carson in the morning. I can probably leave within the week." He forced down bile as he spoke. To his own ears he sounded like a criminal slinking out of town. He had wanted so much more for her.

xXx

The morning he left was gray and unexpectedly terrifying for Anna. The tears she blinked away when he clasped her hand during his farewells in the servants' hall weren't manufactured. She felt every pair of eyes in the room on them and all she could do was swallow thickly and escape as soon as possible.

He was going to London to call on his mother, sell a few of his belongings, and confirm arrangements with the solicitor. He would then travel back to Liverpool, make plans for their passage, and write her to with the day she was to join him.

She prayed the time apart wouldn't cause him to reconsider. She hoped his doubts would not overtake him without her by his side. She wished for the courage she would need to face Mrs. Hughes, tender her resignation, and walk away from everything she'd ever known.


	4. Chapter 4

"Mother," he began slowly. "I've been offered a job in America."

She was shocked at that news, but six children, four of them boys, had taught her to hide it well. "I see," she replied. "What sort of a position is it?"

"One of the wounded soldiers we were looking after owns a dairy. He's offered me the job of managing his operations, if I'm willing to come."

"And are you? Willing to go to America?"

"I am."

She regarded him levelly. "So what could be enough to entice you away from a respectable job in a good house and lure you all the way across the ocean?"

"Anna."

He succeeded in making her betray her surprise. Her youngest had never been one to speak openly, especially about himself. She suspected his reasoning had something to do with the beautiful young woman who'd called on her so long ago, but never thought he would spit it out so easily.

"You don't need to run from the girl, John. She loves you and I know she'll wait for you to sort your situation out."

"That's just it, Mother. My situation can't be sorted. I'm in contact with Vera. I've been supporting her. I've been cordial and reasonable and patient and generous. She will not agree to a divorce under any condition. I cannot be rid of her."

"You don't know that for certain. There is always hope. Don't leave Anna behind because you've decided it's best for her. She wouldn't agree."

"Anna will be coming with me."

The silence stretched.

"She will be accompanying you? To America? Without the benefit of…?"

"Yes," he answered softly, fighting to keep his eyes raised to hers.

"How could you? You can't! You cannot take a young lady away from her home and her family and give her a life of sin! I know you love her. I understand how powerful those feeling are, but you must resist! For her sake, at least. How could you even ask this of her?"

"She asked it of me."

"She's a young girl blinded by love. She isn't thinking clearly. She can't comprehend the consequences."

"She does, mother. She is the smartest, most sensible woman I've ever known. What's more, I'm glad she asked. I'll forever be grateful that she is braver than me and gave us this opportunity."

"John," she replied weakly.

"I'll have a good job in America with enough to support a family. We'll be able to be together openly. She will be known as my wife. I love her, Mother. We love each other. Eventually there will come a time when neither of us will be able to deny any longer. I would stand up with her this very instant if I were able, but I can't. This is the most respectable state of affairs I can give her. I think I can make her happy and that is all I'm prepared to ask out of life."

"Do you really think she understands? Is there nothing more you can do?"

"She chose me. It took me a long time to accept, and I held back from her for years. I explained my limitations. I tried to encourage her to forget about me and find another man. She has never once wavered. I don't think she will let me go and I can't bear the idea of her wasting her whole life waiting for me to be free for her. It won't happen. If she's determined to have me the least I can do is give her a home and children and the chance to live a full life."

She stared at him, dumbfounded. He'd never spoken like that, never showed that kind of passion for anything—the army, Vera, even working for the Earl. As the minutes ticked by without a response a look of grim resignation settled on his face. "I know I've asked you to forgive a lot of me over the years. I will understand if this is too much."

She reflected on her son. He had made horrible choices in his younger days and had stretched the very limits of her love. Somehow, though, this felt different. She remembered being struck by the girl's sagacity and determination as well as touched by the very obvious care she had for John. Did she really wish for him to turn his back on what she offered? She could never say she supported the plan, but she always wished for his happiness. She supposed this would happen regardless of her opinion on it, and adding strife would help no one. She sighed. "I want letters. Frequent letters. From you, your Anna, and my many, many grandchildren."

The ill look finally left his face and he smiled faintly, almost as if he couldn't help it. "We can do that."

"I hope you know what you're doing, dear. I'll light a candle for you."

xXx

"Anna," Mrs. Hughes replied carefully, "think about what you're doing." Part of her had been expecting to have this conversation and she'd been mulling over the right words to bring the poor, devastated girl back to her senses. Only looking at her now, she got the same feeling that had been nagging at her for the past two weeks. The girl didn't appear to be terribly devastated. She looked apprehensive as she sat in the chair Mrs. Hughes had indicated, but when she studied her face she saw something closer to resolve rather than despair in her countenance. It was very odd.

Maybe she had misjudged what existed between her and Mr. Bates. Before, she would have wagered every last penny to her name that there was an attachment between the two of them. She hadn't missed Anna's early interest, and she watched the both of them like a hawk, looking for signs of impropriety and any indication that this new addition to their household might be inclined to abuse the affections of a young woman.

After several months went by and she had become more acquainted with Mr. Bates she had relaxed a small measure. He had shown himself to be a man of good character and while the two seemed inseparable she never saw anything but respectful friendship. As more time passed, his secrets were revealed, and the war started, she knew there had been a change in the nature of their relationship. She could see the difference in the way his eyes followed her, the way they stood imperceptibly closer, and how they were rarely present in the hall after supper. It was more than she might have allowed with anyone else, but she trusted them. She knew Anna was prudent and Mr. Bates wouldn't put her at any risk. They were both indispensible around the house and so she was willing to turn a blind eye as long as it didn't escalate any further.

She had been waiting for the day they announced their engagement and therefore was shocked as anyone when she got the news that he would be leaving to take a job in America. Try as she might, she couldn't make sense of it. Had he and Anna had a falling out? Had Anna lost patience with whatever delay had prevented him from marrying her? Had he fooled them all as to his true nature?

"I have thought it through, Mrs. Hughes, and this is for the best."

"I would advise you to reconsider. You've a good position here and I don't think it's any secret that you have good prospects as well. You could go with Lady Mary when she eventually marries or you could take over as housekeeper here in time. Both of those choices would give you a comfortable, respectable employment—better than any factory could offer you. Men can be fickle in their affections. It's not worth throwing away everything you've worked for. You need to look out for yourself and your future."

Anna's spine had stiffened when she alluded to Mr. Bates but instead of hurt, defiance had flickered in her eyes. "I can't stay. I'm sorry for any inconvenience this causes."

Elsie Hughes had been in love and had lived though heartbreak. When she was younger, after Joe Burns but before she'd come to Downton, there had been an entanglement. After deciding she didn't want to be a farmer's wife, she had gotten a job in a nice house in Harrogate. The family was status-conscious and upwardly mobile; as a result, they employed a footman to serve alongside the butler. Gregory was tall, handsome, and witty. She was quickly enamored and he seemed to enjoy her attentions. Soon they were sharing long conversations over tea, then stolen moments in the pantry. She began to seriously consider leaving service for marriage, but unbeknownst to her at the same time he was seriously considering a better post. She was blindsided the day he announced he'd secured employment in the country house of a duke and gutted when she understood that his plans for the future didn't include her. The next months were a sad blur in her memory, but she knew she had lost weight, hardened her heart, and focused on her work to the exclusion of all else until she could escape.

She didn't see the same symptoms in Anna. She was slightly quieter, perhaps, and did seem to be full of nerves, but she still talked at meals, still smiled and joked on occasion. She had caught her a few times, walking through rooms with an air of sentimentality about her. She ran her fingers over rails, examined the artwork as if she were seeing it with new eyes, and took on tiny, detailed jobs that were often skipped in the daily rush. She seemed to constantly be off to the village, but never came back with any purchases. Something didn't add up, but Mrs. Hughes couldn't quite put her finger on what it was.

"There's no need to rush into anything. Why not take a little more time and really weigh your options? Perhaps I could show you a bit more of my duties so you could get an idea of whether it's something you might aspire to."

"That's very kind of you, Mrs. Hughes. I'm very grateful for you concern for me, but I have to leave. "

A hitch in Anna's tone caught her attention, and suddenly the pieces clicked into place. "Oh God—you're going with him."

"Mrs. Hughes, I –"

"Wait! Don't say anything. Not a word."

Anna's gaze didn't waver, but it turned wary as she complied, and she remained perched awkwardly on the edge of her seat as if she were contemplating bolting for the door. Elsie knew the moment she spoke that she was right. Nothing else made sense given the situation. Anna didn't remind her of her heartbroken younger self; she actually reminded her more of how she felt when Charles went to London for the season—full of anticipation, restless energy, and a bit of fear that things might have changed when they were reunited.

The thought of Mr. Carson, and what the world might think of her association with him, softened Mrs. Hughes. She knew that Anna was a good girl. She'd arrived at Downton as a wide-eyed child, really, and had quickly proven herself capable, diligent, and responsible. It wasn't an accident that she had been promoted so fast and had the privileges she did. Until things with Mr. Bates had changed, Elsie had been keen on grooming her as her eventual replacement. Uneasy as she was with the idea of her running off, she believed in Anna and was certain that she would never intentionally do anything to hurt or harm anyone. If this is what she had been forced to, it must be justified by some means.

"When are you to meet him?"

Anna observed her carefully. She had been truthful once, and it had gotten her nothing but censure and fear. Was it worth the risk again? Could she trust Mrs. Hughes? Would she understand or would she just be another in a long line waiting to call Anna foolish, at best? Taking another in a long series of gambles, she braced herself. "Friday next."

"I'm assuming there is a…reason why you can't simply marry and stay here?"

She nodded.

"Is there cause for haste?"

"No! At least, not for the reason you're implying."

"You're absolutely sure he'll look after you?

"I am. There's no one I trust more."

"You've really evaluated this thoroughly? You know what you're risking? You believe this is best?"

"I do. I can't live without him."

"Has he told anyone here?"

"Not that I know of. I apologize if there any whispers after I leave."

"Let's not make it known just yet. We'll tell the other staff and family you were called home or somesuch."

"Thank you," she whispered. As bruised as the last weeks had left her, the idea that Mrs. Hughes didn't intend to berate her, and even meant to help, left her fighting back tears.

"I'll do what I can, Anna. I can't make any promises, but I'll try."

"I appreciate it more than you know."

xXx

John met her at the train station the evening before they were to sail. Anna had thought they would have thousands of things to say to each other after the weeks of distance and in the face of what lay before them, but when the moment arrived all she wanted to do was hold him. She had raced out of her car and barely managed to pull him to the side of the crowd before wrapping herself around him and squeezing so tightly she hoped his answering groan was not from pain.

She had stayed at Downton up to the last minute both for the extra few days' wages and to save on lodging costs in Liverpool. As it was, the least expensive somewhat respectable boarding house near the port partitioned the sexes regardless of marital status, so after a quick supper he had seen her to the door of the women and children's side and kissed her goodnight, advising her to get some sleep since they, along with most of the others in residence, would need to be up early to check in. She was disappointed not to have more time with him after being separated so long, but contented herself with the thought that, God willing, this would be the last night they would ever spend apart.


	5. Chapter 5

Between their savings and a gift from John's mother they were able to scrape up enough between them for second-class passage. It was a bit risky as it left them with very thin reserves, but it would be money well spent in sparing them immigration processing when they arrived in America. John's limp surely would have attracted much more attention than they could afford, and he would have been forced to either lie about his past imprisonment or risk being denied entry. They also avoided difficult questions when they booked passage and boarded. He had enough of his Lordship's cast-offs to pass for well-to-do at a distance and above decks it wasn't entirely uncommon for that sort of man to be accompanied by a pretty young woman like Anna without submitting a marriage license.

After a long morning of queues and paperwork they got onboard without incident. They were guided to their cabin and by the time their cases were delivered and everything was sorted it was time for tea. After that they made their way to the railing and watched their fellow passengers wave and holler to family and friends on the docks while streamers fell and the ship's horn blared, feeling strangely detached from the whole spectacle. Changing quickly, they then went to supper and made small talk with their tablemates until they could politely excuse themselves, citing exhaustion.

As they walked back to their stateroom Anna's stomach fluttered at the idea of what awaited them upon their return. She had hoped it could be a wedding night, of sorts. They weren't going to get a real wedding, she knew that, but it would be the first night they were properly alone together, the first night of their new life. She figured it was the closest they were going to get, and she looked forward to it being a joyful anniversary over the years.

Trying to make it as nice as she could, she had spared a bit more of her savings for a delicate, lacy gown. When he went to wash up for the night she slipped it on and took down her hair, brushing it out in front of the looking-glass and pinching some color into her cheeks. She turned off all of the lights save for one lamp which cast a soft glow through the room and sat down on the bed to wait.

She stood when she heard him return, facing him as bravely as she could. He stopped in his tracks, gaping at the sight in front of him. He swallowed with effort and she started to relax, thinking that he appreciated her efforts. She moved forward, anxious to touch him and consummate the long-simmering desire they'd both fed over the years, but was shocked when he put his hands out to stop her.

"Anna, no. Wait."

"What?"

"Please. Not yet."

"I don't understand."

"We can't"

"Why ever not?"

"It's too soon. It's not right."

"When will it be right, John?"

"I—" he stammered.

"What will make it any more right than it is now?"

He realized he didn't have an answer for her. He couldn't really make any clear thoughts come up aside from an overwhelming feeling of wrongness and irritation with himself for ogling her. Lust had overtaken him at the sight of her, with a rawness that surprised even him. He was sure what she was expecting was nothing even remotely close to what he had immediately begun imagining.

When he didn't reply she studied him, trying to make sense of his reaction while dread settled in her belly. "I suppose this is a foolish time to ask, but are you really in this? Are you going to be able to do this?"

He edged back, one hand fumbling for his jacket and the other finding the latch and pushing the door open.

"Where are you going?"

He didn't hear her. He couldn't hear anything but the blood rushing in his ears and all he could think to do was run.

"John?" she called, confusion and worry clear in her voice.

"I can't," he gasped, and lurched out into the corridor, shutting the door quickly behind him.

xXx

It was nearly two in the morning when he crept back into their room. He had paced round and round the decks, shivering in the cold, trying to come to terms with himself. He had thought he could do this. His words to his mother had been sincere—this was the best he could do for them and he wanted their life together more than he could possible articulate. He thought he had accepted it as right even though so many would say this was wrong. But facing her at the moment from which he knew he couldn't turn back, everything he'd tried so hard to work past came flooding back over him.

He knew he had hurt her. He couldn't imagine how she must have felt, standing there, offering herself to him, only to have him push her off like that. That transgression could be thrown on the pile with all the others, he thought. The many faults and errors of John Bates.

Of course he wanted her. He wanted her very badly. At least some part of him had since the first day they'd met. His nicer fantasies centered around the wedding night he'd always hoped they'd have. He'd pictured her shy, but still with that bit of naughtiness about her, in nothing but the ring he'd put on her finger. She would be a little nervous but he would introduce her to the joys of lovemaking, confident that it would actually be joyful with her, not a drunken act of anger or resignation. He would go slowly, make her cry out, make her gasp that she wanted him before he would let himself take her. And she would love it as much as he did, need him the way he needed her. Those were the decent ones. The rest of his imaginings had been more primal—pushing her against the nearest available surface, yanking up her skirts, and burying himself in her until he finally got some relief, until he felt worthy of her.

He wasn't worthy, though, and wasn't sure he ever could be. They were on this ship, heading out to live a life based on lies and fraud. She deserved so much better, so much more than he could ever give her. She was going to take his name, give him her body, make him a home, and bear his children and he had nothing to offer her in return. He didn't deserve this, or her.

It was done, though. There was no way to reverse it, and he didn't want to anyway. He acknowledged that agreeing to this plan might make him a weak man, but at least he'd be a thoroughly happy weak man. In the past he'd made many selfish choices for his own indulgence that had brought nothing but pain and destruction, but his gut told him this was different. Could he trust his own moral compass after having battered it so thoroughly over the years? He wondered if he hadn't used his shame much like his cane, especially when it came to Anna. Hiding behind his demons very conveniently prevented him from hoping for happiness and risking disappointment. Perhaps it was time for him to accept that his dismal past needed to remain where it lay, long behind him.

He would simply have to take her advice and redeem himself. And, strange as the feeling was, he wondered if maybe he could. He'd never congratulate himself, but he could allow that he'd served fairly well at Downton. There'd been some scrapes, but he thought he'd taken care of his Lordship competently and done his bit to make things run well at the house. At least it hadn't seemed like they'd be happy to see the back of him. His mother trusted him enough to accept his situation, despite her reservations. Anna saw something sufficiently valuable in him to be willing to throw up her entire life to follow him. Her eagerness comforted him as much as it stirred him.

He would be a good husband to her, or was at least willing to try his hardest. He didn't drink, couldn't imagine being tempted by another woman, and coming home to her each night would be his greatest joy. He would get to know everything about her, support her in any way he could, and find ways to make her smile each day. He would care for their children to the best of his ability and would look for every opportunity to help Mr. Moss and make his business a success. That, at least, he could offer the world.

He cursed himself for letting a moment of panic get the better of him. He had promised that he would look after her and keep her safe, and already he'd failed by giving her reason to doubt him. Somehow he had to try to explain it to her and beg her forgiveness.

She was asleep and didn't stir when he entered. She had changed into a plain nightdress and tucked herself into the far side of the bed. Even after he left her she had kept the lamp glowing for him and in the soft light he could see that her rest hadn't been peaceful.

He shrugged off his coat and walked over to the bed, sitting himself on the edge and turning to face her. An intractable part of him noticed the lushness of her figure under the blankets, but he reminded himself firmly that he hadn't earned the right to indulge in admiring her so intimately. He reached out and gently touched her arm.

She opened her eyes and looked up at him affectionately, though the warmth was replaced with disappointment and wariness as she woke fully and the memory of their evening settled upon her. She sat up and pulled her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around them, looking at him steadily but saying nothing.

"I'm sorry, Anna," he managed, his voice thick with emotion.

She didn't answer.

"I thought… I don't know what I thought actually. Odd as it may sound, I couldn't let myself think too much about what it would be like once we were actually here. I think I was afraid it might never happen."

"You said you can't," she responded flatly. "What did you mean?"

"No!" he exclaimed, realizing to his horror that she had thought he meant he couldn't go forward with their new life together. "Please forgive me."

"Is this really what you want? I know I pushed you, and maybe I shouldn't have. I just wanted this so badly and I thought that we could make it right together. I don't want you to do something that you can't live with. You'll grow to hate me for it and that would break my heart. We don't have to go through with this. I can go back. I can get another job. I'd manage." Her bravado was betrayed by a faint wobble of her chin.

"I wouldn't."

He moved a bit closer, wishing he could gather her up and soothe the wounds he'd left, but not quite able to muster the courage.

"You didn't force me into this. It's my fault for having made so many terrible choices. What you've given up—I am in your debt. The idea of a life without you is so bleak I can't stand to think about it. I want this just as much as you do. I apologize for losing sight of that for a moment.

"Can you tell me what happened?"

He sighed. "Ever since I met you, no matter what I felt or wished for, I've never been able to look at you and simply be happy. The love that I feel for you has always been tempered with worry, or guilt. I know I need to put that out of my head completely, but it's proving to be harder than I thought.

"I can understand that, but you can't walk away, John. It's all right if you have doubts, or you wish it didn't have to be like this. I do too sometimes. We can help each other with that but the one thing you can't do is shut me out. I have to be able to count on you."

"It won't happen again."

"Am I your wife from this day forward or aren't I?"

"Almost. But not quite yet."

She watched him as he got up and crossed the room. He rummaged around in his bag before taking his place again in front of her. He took her hands in his and stared down at them. "I can't marry you." The heartbreak in his soft voice pained her too.

"I know," she replied sadly.

"I want to so badly."

"I do too."

"I wish I could give you a wedding and a proper future together. But everything I can give—my love, my fidelity, my body, my labor—is yours entirely and always will be. " He reached into his pocket and pulled out a simple golden band. He raised his eyes to hers. She nodded and he slipped it over her finger.

She stared at it, rubbing her thumb across the warm gold and moving her fingers, testing the new weight and presence. Her eyes welled up and when she met his they were bright as well.

"So what couldn't you do, John?" she asked, though she already knew the answer. She eased herself toward him, the neckline of her gown dipping a bit as she moved. She bit down a smile as his gaze followed the shift.

"I've spent so long trying not to act on what I felt. It's a little overwhelming to realize that yesterday I couldn't, but tonight I should."

"Would it help you to know that I feel the same way? I used to watch you walk up the stairs at night and wish you were coming to my bed." Her gown slipped farther off her shoulder.

His eyes darkened. "I didn't dare think about it. I could barely keep myself under control. If you knew the things I thought…"

"I'm sure they'd be a lot like mine," she confessed. "I'm not ashamed of it and I don't think it's wrong. Desire is a different thing from lust. One is born of love and wanting to share yourself with another person, the other is about taking something that isn't yours."

"You weren't mine."

"I've always been yours." She rose to her knees in front of him. "I'm yours now."

"Anna," he breathed.

"Sometimes when you sat in the hall you would take off your jacket and roll up your shirtsleeves." She pushed at his braces as she spoke, easing them over his shoulders. "I could hardly sit still. I used to lay awake later and wonder what the rest of you looked like."

"When you held me you would always stop right here," she continued, taking his hand and placing it against her side, just below her breast. He let out a shuddering breath at the feel of her warm skin under her thin gown. "I so wished you wouldn't stop. That you'd move just a bit higher. Sometimes I couldn't help pushing against you. I was hoping I could lure you where I wanted you."

"I know," he replied in a strangled voice. "It took everything I had not to give in."

"You would practically jump back. I always wondered if you…wanted me."

"I did," he groaned as he tightened his grip on her. "It was torture."

"Torture?" she purred, leaning in until her lips were a breath away from his.

He closed the distance, stealing a taste. "The very sweetest kind."

"And now?"

His hand slipped up, cupping her, his thumb sliding over the swell of her flesh, catching against the hardened peak. She closed her eyes and exhaled heavily. He brought his other hand to her neck, tracing over the delicate skin and across her collarbone. He leaned forward and pressed his lips against her throat and was rewarded with the vibration of her moan against his mouth.

She reached over and fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, pausing only briefly when she was finished to rake her nails across his bare chest before catching his eye and boldly reaching for the fastenings of his trousers. He shifted toward her, eager to make it easier for her to do whatever it was she wanted. At the same time he ran his hands down the length of her body, coming to rest on her thighs and gathering up the material of her gown in his fists.

Having gotten his trousers open, she worked her hands inside and began brushing over him curiously. He squeezed his eyes shut and moaned. With what little coordination he could muster, he pulled on her gown. In a flash she released him and lifted her arms over her head. He wrenched it off, hastily tossing it over her shoulder, and then froze, taking in the miles of creamy skin revealed to him. He had dreamt of this moment for so long, and yet it was nothing like he had imagined.

He would have liked to take his time in admiring her, ghosting his fingertips across the taut curves and intriguing hollows and memorizing all of the spots that made her shiver, but she slid her hands in his trousers once more, pushing down this time, encouraging him to remove them completely.

As before, he was eager to oblige her and suddenly they found themselves completely revealed to each other. Any hopes he had of a slow, gentle discovery evaporated when she reached for him again. There was nothing tentative in her grasp of him, nor any shyness in her hands' wandering. She seemed to understand that he was hers and he loved her for it.

Hoping the same privilege extended to him, he leaned back against the pillows and drew her close. She didn't stop her exploration, but she arched back and let him skim his palms over every bit of her. He learned the curve of her back, the weight of her breasts, the heat of her center, and the ticklish spot behind her knee. She reveled in the firm strength he kept quietly concealed under his suits, lost herself in the musk of his skin, and succeeded in making him growl when she straddled his hips and rocked against him. Back and forth they searched, teased, and delighted in each other. Finally, when he couldn't stand it any longer, he pulled her under him and made her his wife, just as she claimed him as her husband.

As he lay next to her afterward, cradling her head against his shoulder as she slept contentedly, he couldn't tear his thoughts from the piece of himself he'd left within her. Was this the start of their family? What would he tell his children when they grew? He hoped that one day, when they knew everything of him, they would still judge him worthy of their respect and love him as much as he already loved them.

xXx

The voyage took six days, but with the flush of new passion between them they barely noticed the time slipping by. They enjoyed the luxurious dining rooms, investigated the card room, library, and salons, and made time for a turn around the decks each afternoon, but the bulk of the voyage was spent sequestered away, making up for lost time. Now free to touch her, he found he couldn't stop. His hand found its way to her lower back whenever they walked, meandered over her neck and shoulders as she paused to admire the paintings in the passageways, and slipped down to her hips, pulling her back against him when he'd had enough of their exploring and needed to lie with her again.

She was just as bad. It seemed that something about watching him shave made him nearly irresistible to her. He'd nicked himself the first day when she surprised him by wrapping herself around him as he stood at the washstand. She'd apologized profusely, though her proximity and the gentle brush of her lips against his neck as she kissed the tiny cut left him unable to remember any offense. She took more care after that, choosing to stretch out across the bed and admire him unabashedly. She'd wound up covered in shaving soap more than once when he'd been unable to ignore her unspoken invitation.

The moment they pulled into New York Harbor was bittersweet. They were buoyed by all the wonderful possibilities that lay in front of them, but staring at the Statue of Liberty in the distance, something they'd only read about in newspapers, made the reality of the situation settle even further on their shoulders. What was behind them was truly left behind. This was home now.

As hoped, they filed off the ship with nothing more than a tip of the purser's cap and a hearty welcome from the sailing line's New York agent. For a few coins a porter gathered up their cases and they were on their way into the great city. The sights and sounds blurred together until Anna gave up trying to make sense of it all and simply gawked as they were delivered to a massive stone building guarded by a row of columns running as far as her eye could see. A man in a smart red uniform asked for their train tickets. He examined them and then led them under towering arches of steel and into a great marble hall, informing them that their train, the Broadway Limited, would be called in about an hour.

That hour flew by as they watched hundreds of people rush in and out. They heard snippets of languages they didn't recognize and wondered where everyone was going in such a hurry. When they were called they made their way to the massive concourse and were welcomed aboard a train the likes of which they'd only seen through the windows of the Grantham's compartment. The journey lasted over twenty hours. They spent the day in the lovely wood-paneled observation cars, marveling at the mountains, shorelines, and hundreds of mills and steelworks that lined the rails. Their night was spent tucked into a narrow Pullman berth, letting the rhythm of the train move them into each other.

They arrived in Chicago the next morning and found themselves in another great marble hall, surrounded by another bustle of people. By that point they were thoroughly stupefied and weary of travel. Anna hoped for the chance to visit again someday when she had fresh eyes to take it all in. Their next train rumbled them north into Wisconsin. In their tired, giddy state they chuckled at all the odd-sounding names of the towns they passed—Waukegan, Kenosha, Milwaukee—thinking that their final destination, Sheboygan, was the funniest of them all. Paul had said that many of the towns had been named by the Indian tribes that had once lived there and John vowed to learn more about them after they settled in.

They were surprised as they pulled farther north to see the green of spring give way to a shock of wintry white. Pulling into the small depot, Anna shivered and wrapped her shawl tighter around herself as John helped her out of their car. Their cases were piled in front of them and they scanned the square looking for a familiar face.

"Bates?" a voice boomed through the cold air. They turned and saw a burly workman standing next to a cart, waving at them. John raised his hand in acknowledgment and he headed their way.

"Cold enough for ya'?" he greeted them cheerfully, offering John a hearty handshake and tipping his cap at Anna. "Hopefully this should be the last of the season." His accent had a strange musicality John couldn't place, similar to German but not quite the same. "Name's Horst. Mr. Moss told me to bring down the wagon for your things."

"How do you do, Mr. Horst?"

"Call me Jim. Why don't you get the missus settled while I load up these bags?"

"I can help with those."

"I got it. Better get yourselves bundled up. We're not going far, but the wind really picks up outside of town."

He nodded and boosted Anna up on to the bench, tucking the blankets firmly around her and letting his eyes twinkle with mischief as his hands lingered. She stifled a giggle and slid her hand along his thigh when he came to sit next to her. As promised, they arrived at the dairy quickly. Both of them were amazed at the sheer size of the place. Jim led them into a cozy building and knocked on one of the doors. They heard papers shuffling and a voice called, "Come in!"

In the office was a friendly looking, if harried man. He glanced up from his papers and his face broke into a wide grin. "John!" he exclaimed, standing up and coming around the front of the desk. He shook John's hand, clapped him on the back, and beamed. Anna noticed that he seemed just as happy and it warmed her heart. A measure of tension left her, replaced with hope and optimism.

"It's good to see you again, Paul. You're looking well."

"Thanks. The old leg isn't doing too badly." He turned his attention briefly to Jim. "Could you run and fetch Arabella?" Jim nodded and left.

"How was the trip?"

"Quite good, thank you."

"Glad to hear it. You'll have to tell us all about it later. I know you'll want to get settled in, but Arabella insisted you come for dinner tonight. I'm sure the last thing you'll want to do is cook!" he joked, offering Anna a warm smile, which she returned. He looked at John expectantly.

John took a deep breath and glanced at Anna, who gave him a tiny nod. She grasped his hand and they readied themselves for the last sin they ever hoped to commit.

"Paul, I'd like you to meet my wife, Anna. "


	6. Chapter 6

_Thanks, as always, to everyone who read and especially those who took the time to review. It means a lot. _

_Language warning: this chapter contains an ethnic slur I felt was necessary to tell the story. Please skip if this will be distressing to you._

* * *

><p>The first letter had been to his mother. That one was the easiest to write and the most warmly received. John assured her that they had arrived safely and that his new job was going well. Anna filled in the details, describing their two-story farmhouse with the gabled roof, the kind but curious characters living nearby, and the sweet, bumbling brown dog that seemed to have adopted them. A reply came promptly, wishing them well and asking to hear more about their new home. From then they made a point to write weekly and enjoyed an affectionate relationship for all of Mrs. Bates' years.<p>

The next went to Anna's mother. It was long, disjointed, and put off for weeks. She tried to explain that she was settled, happy, and in love. She apologized as best she could, both for her departure and the manner in which it was carried out. A rumpled envelope eventually arrived from her sister. It said that her mother was brokenhearted, her brothers were disgusted, and that she had brought shame and disappointment to everyone. Anna staggered at reading this, and tried writing directly to each of them, telling them how much she loved them and how sorry she was for how things had to be. Months later another note came from her sister, tersely explaining that her mother and brothers preferred she did not write again. For her part, Ellie sent one letter every year at Christmas, to which Anna faithfully replied. It never got any better, but while it always stung, soon enough Anna had a new family, both of her own and adopted from friends, to love and care for.

Writing to Lord Grantham proved just as difficult for John. He considered telling him the whole story, but time and distance had made him wonder if his Lordship hadn't made the request for him to write out of politeness, or just a passing fancy. With that playing on his mind, the first message merely included an account of the crossing, his impressions of America, and an explanation of his work at the dairy. He was surprised to get a sincere and enthusiastic letter in return, sharing news from Downton and containing several questions about what he had written. At that, John knew he had to be candid, at least somewhat. He mentioned Anna in his response and commented about their home. The Earl expressed surprise at that news, but wished him well and didn't press for specifics. John didn't volunteer many details and they turned their discussion to matters more philosophical. Remarkably, their correspondence endured until Lord Grantham's passing in the spring of 1938.

xXx

She stopped and pushed her hair back off her forehead with an irritated grumble. Why had she done this to herself? She was glad to have invited Paul, Arabella, and their young son Anthony for Sunday lunch after church—it was the least she could do to repay all of their kindness and hospitality as she and John had settled in—but perhaps she had overestimated herself somewhat in the menu she had planned. Where had she left the butter?

"Is there anything I can help with?"

Usually Anna wouldn't let John lift a finger around the house. He worked so hard all day and often brought ledgers home with him to pore over after supper. Since it was just the two of them she insisted that he enjoy his leisure when he could. Today, however, she wasn't too proud to accept his assistance. She nodded toward a basket hanging by the back door. "I need the eggs."

"All right."

"Could you also put down a bit of scratch while you're out there?"

He took the basket and opened the door. He turned back. "Where would I find that?"

"In the shed by the coop."

He returned a few moments later. "I don't think there are any eggs this morning, dear."

"No eggs? There are ten of them and they've been laying very well."

"I didn't see any."

Wiping her hands on her apron, she strode purposefully into the yard. He trailed after her. She marched right up to the coop and opened a little door on the back, revealing several eggs. She looked up at him strangely.

"I didn't know that's where they would be," he muttered.

"Were you expecting to chase the hens around and charm them out of them?" she replied, amusement plain on her face.

"I grew up in London, Anna. We got our eggs from a peddler that came by the back door."

"I see," she said with a giggle. "It's a good thing you brought me with you. You might have starved out here!"

"Oh, I definitely would have perished," he answered, catching her around the waist and making her squeal by tickling her side, "but it wouldn't have been from hunger." She darted out of his embrace, laughing as he advanced toward her again with an exaggerated waggle of his eyebrows. Never able to resist him long, she let herself be caught and sighed as his lips descended on her neck. None of this was getting her ludicrously ambitious lunch on the table, but she didn't mind a bit.

She was sure they wouldn't be two for long.

xXx

She'd never seen such a thing. It was so…big. The first time it landed on their doorstep she started at the thump and rushed out to see what had happened. The words Sears & Roebuck shone back up at her and it actually took some effort to pick the massive thing up. Inside lay all the treasures of the world—a thousand pages of things that could be purchased via post and delivered right to them. She showed John the moment he came home and he too goggled at it. In the following days one or the other always had it open.

After years of wearing the same two dresses, she lingered over the ladies' fashions. The current mode, with the long lines and dropped waists, suited her slim figure for the first time in her life. It was hard, but she resisted. They had set up their home modestly but comfortably and had plans to set aside a sum for a rainy day. She knew that was more important, but admired the fine frocks just the same.

He had a weakness for gadgets. He spent an entire supper one night trying to convince her they needed a combination weather vane and rain gauge with a wind speed meter. She couldn't help but laugh at his boyish eagerness and was almost softened enough to give in, but over dessert he caught himself. He already had more than he could have ever asked for and didn't need new purchases to add to his happiness.

She snuck looks at the baby section, running her fingers over the pictures of booties and bottles. He caught her one afternoon, and, embarrassed, she snapped the catalog closed so fast she gave herself a paper cut. He came to fuss over her and saw it had fallen back open, revealing the pages that had fascinated her so. He put it on his lap, pulled her close to him on the sofa, and together they looked through them all. They were captivated by a beautiful wooden cradle, oak with a pattern of leaves carved into it. It was expensive but exquisite and they both wanted it, for many reasons.

They made a game of marking every single item that caught their fancy, from her cut glass saltcellar to his electric powered apple peeler. Then they added it all up, laughed at the astronomical total, and put the catalog in the kindling pile.

Later that year they allowed themselves just one splurge. The cradle arrived at their door in just three weeks.

xXx

She liked to chatter at night. At first he'd found it endearing when sharing a bed was new, but after a while it got on his nerves when all he wanted to do after a long day was kiss her and fall into the sweet oblivion of sleep. Fortunately, by the time their third came along she was simply too tired to manage it anymore. He was never so grateful for Andrew.

She'd always thought he was a tidy man, but it didn't become clear until they shared a home that he tended to abandon articles—handkerchiefs, socks, newspapers—at whatever point they'd ceased their usefulness to him. She constantly tripped over them, or was cajoled into helping him find them later. It was not her favorite of his habits.

He could never understand why she got so upset when he used up the last of the milk. Did they not live at a dairy?

He grew to enjoy coffee. On especially good mornings, usually after equally agreeable nights, she presented him with a cup done just the way he liked it and prevented him from taking his first sip with the sweetness of her lips. Most days she at least made sure it was brewed by the time he made it to the table. About every other fortnight it was accompanied by sweet dumplings and jam. They were a favorite of his and he came to understand she made them as a silent apology for being out of sorts and irritable for a day or two. He kissed her cheek on those mornings and said nothing more about it. Once, after he bought a used Model T without discussing it with her, his cup, filled with a cold, black sludge, was slammed on the table with such force that half of the contents sloshed out. After that he learned how to make his own coffee, just in case.

He was a romantic at heart, prone to mental flights of fancy and a great lover of poetry. Most of the time she enjoyed this inclination of his. When he read to her that their children were the sons and daughters of life's longing for itself she thought it was beautiful. Sometimes, however, it could be a bit much. When he also quoted to her that there should be spaces in their togetherness to let the winds of heaven dance between them, she had to fight the urge to roll her eyes. Couldn't he simply say that he wanted to spend the afternoon in Paul's garage, tinkering with the boat they were building?

How many hats did one woman need? Granted, she did look lovely in them—the coy cloche, cheeky tam, and summery boater with ribbons—but they cluttered up the closet and she took forever choosing between them. When he complained she threatened to bob her hair. He supposed this was the preferable alternative.

Would it be that difficult to simply tell her when he finished the milk and remove the bottle from the icebox? Did he have any idea how irritating it was to have a cranky toddler on one hip and an empty bottle in the other hand?

He was far too indulgent with the children, especially Alice and even worse when June surprised them a dozen years later. They were both clever enough never to accept his first "no" as a final answer. Anna found herself slightly miffed. She used to be the only woman he couldn't refuse.

They loved each other more every day.

xXx

He sat at the kitchen table, sorting through the month's bills.

"How can one simple broken arm cost so much?" he mused.

"With your children, John, I would expect no less."

"My children? She climbed to the top of a tree to chase after Anthony Moss. That's your daughter, my dear."

She smirked at him and turned back to the stove.

He sighed. "It's going to be a bit tight this month, I'm afraid."

Tight was nothing new for them, not for the past few years. The country's woes were keenly felt even in their little corner. Folks had to scrimp where they could, so they bought less milk, less cheese, and precious little butter. At the same time the great droughts had caused feed prices to skyrocket. The dairy had survived, thanks to careful management during better times, but there'd been no money to increase wages for quite some time. Providing for a house full of growing children required more ingenuity with every trip to the grocer.

She did some quick mental calculations. It was getting warmer, so they could probably forego heating oil during the days. Her canning from last summer would get them through without needing to buy anything more if she made simpler meals. June's Sunday dress simply couldn't be worn any longer, but Anna thought she could rework one of Alice's old ones to do the job. "It's all right, John. I can make do."

He pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'm sorry, Anna." His voice was barely above a whisper and she knew what it cost him to say that.

She came up behind him and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. He leaned back into her and she rested her cheek on his head. "I'm not. It's the price we had to pay for this and I would do it all over again."

He pulled her around to the front, settling her on his good leg. She slid her arms around his neck. His hand slipped under her sweater and he grazed his thumb over the side of her breast, making her shiver. In all the years they'd been together and with all that they'd shared, it still thrilled her when he touched her so possessively. She could still remember back so long ago when they couldn't and he wouldn't and now that freedom was still the thing she treasured most. He kissed her deeply and she gave a little hum in the back of her throat, relaxing into him.

"Ugh! Mom! Dad! Must you? Honestly!"

xXx

"Do you think the Packers will win, Dad?"

John smiled at his son. "Let's hope so!"

Since starting school Edward had become obsessed with this American version of football, spending all of his time playing with the other boys in the park and chattering incessantly about the team from Green Bay. They'd won their way into the championship again this year and he'd begged his parents to take him to the game. John and Anna had looked into it and found it wouldn't be too expensive to take the family. It seemed most of the town had the same idea, and so an informal rally was being held in the square before they all departed en masse for the stadium.

When they arrived Alice had immediately run off to find her friends. Edward tossed his ball around while still talking animatedly at John about the game and Andrew followed his older brother's every move. June was always shy in crowds and so she clung to Anna's skirt and popped her thumb in her mouth, surveying the scene.

"Who is that, Edward?" Anna asked, nodding toward a boy on the outskirts on the crowd.

"That's Issac."

"Is he new? I don't recall seeing him before."

"He just started coming to school last week. He talks funny. Hank says he's a sheeny and we shouldn't play with him."

"Edward!"

"Mom?" he asked, bewildered at Anna's strong reaction.

She took a deep breath and exchanged a worried look with John. "Honey, do you know what that word means?"

"I guess not. But it didn't sound good from the way Hank told about it."

"It's a very unkind word for someone who is Jewish. I don't want you using it again."

"Oh."

"Why would Hank say such a thing?"

"His father works in the barns," John murmured to Anna. "From what I've heard it's not much of surprise, unfortunately." He turned his attention to Edward. "Have you gotten to know Issac at all?"

"Not much. He seems all right, I guess, but I don't want the other fellas to get sore with me."

"It sounds like you have a few decisions to make."

"Like what, Dad?"

"Well, first off, you'll need to decide if you want to be the kind of man who lets other people tell you who your friends are going to be. And then you need to think about what sort of friends you really want to keep."

"I don't know..."

"You know, your mother and I talk funny too."

"But that's different!"

"How so?"

He opened his mouth to protest, but couldn't think of any answer. "Maybe," he started slowly, "maybe I could see if he wants to go to the game with us?"

"That sounds like a fine idea. Off you go."

Later that day, the Green Bay Packers defeated the New York Giants 36-21. John and Anna were relieved to see all of the boys cheering together.

xXx

"She's so young, John."

"I know. But we knew this was coming."

"I just didn't think it would happen so soon."

"If not for the war it mightn't, but I don't see how they have much choice. I would do the same in their shoes."

"Would you?"

"He loves her. And Alice loves him. I don't blame them for wanting as much as possible. I know what it costs to lose out on even a minute."

"Are you sure we did the right thing, letting her do this?"

"Honestly, I'm not sure it was a question of letting. I don't know that we could have stopped her. She is her mother's daughter."

"Hush, you."

"I'm proud of her. She could stay home and wait, but I think it's better that she joined the WAVES. At least she'll keep busy and I know she wants to contribute."

"It's hard to think of our little girl at some naval base. I know we've all got to do our bit, but she's never been farther than Chicago!"

"She'll grow up fast, just like the rest of them. Plus, it might make it easier for her to see Anthony on his liberties if she's at a naval station."

"That's true, I suppose. God, did you ever think we'd be doing this again? And that we'd be sending our children into this one?"

"No. And Edward will be 18 in just a few months."

"Oh, I can't think about that. I'll go mad."

"Has he said anything to you?"

"Not yet. But I know it's on his mind."

"We should probably sit him down sooner rather than later. I don't want to find out he's joined up after he's already done it."

"Agreed."

"I think it's about time to board."

"Where are you going? The platform for Chicago is this way."

"How would you feel if we delayed our trip home by a few days? Maybe took a little excursion?"

"What on earth brought this up?"

"I had a letter last month. Forgive me for not telling you right away, but I knew we'd be coming to New York and I had an idea."

"What kind of idea?"

"Do you think you could stand to attend one more wedding this week?"

"Whose?"

"Ours."

"John?"

"She gone. The solicitor's office confirmed it and sent me the papers. It's finally over."

"Oh my goodness!"

"Marry me, Anna. Let's go to Niagara Falls and find a little chapel. Give me the one and only thing I've missed in my life."

"Of course! After more than twenty years and four children I suppose I could consent to being your wife for good and proper."

"I'm such a lucky man."

"What about the children?"

"We'll telephone before we leave. Edward can manage Andrew and June for a little while longer."

"You know what this means, don't you?"

"What?"

"I'm most certainly going to need a new dress for our wedding. And possibly a hat."

"I never doubted it for a moment, love. Let's go."


End file.
